The Test
by One Ranger
Summary: Steph wants Ranger and she's not taking no for an answer. Unfortunately, Batman has his own ideas about what he wants. Babe. Rated M for language, mature content and possible smut.
1. Chapter 1

**The Test**

"So are you seeing anyone?" Mental head-slap! Not what I meant to say at all. I attempted to clarify by saying, "You know … around the house … lurking in the bushes … repelling from the rooftop?" Smooth, Steph. Totally covered your ass there. _What is wrong with me_?

Ranger barely reacted to the question. He was slouched comfortably in the driver's seat of the Explorer, wrist draped over the steering wheel, breathing approximately one respiration every two hours and just getting his Zen on. Freak. The only indication that he'd heard me was his quiet, "Babe."

What the hell did that mean? Was it, "Babe, shut your pie-hole"? Probably not. Maybe it was, "Babe, nobody repels from a ranch-style house." Or was it, "Babe, of course I'm not seeing anyone. You ruined me for all other women"?

And here's the thing. I really was wondering if he was seeing anyone, you know … female. I mean, I didn't really like thinking about him with other women, but did I really believe he'd been celibate the last few years? What if he has a girlfriend now? What if I'm too late?

I guess you're wondering what brought this on. Joe and I broke up two months ago. Thing is, nobody in the 'Burg knows yet. It's not like it's a huge secret. We just happened to break up before he went on another long undercover assignment. There didn't seem to be any point in making any kind of announcement, and quite frankly, I was enjoying the peace.

So I've been biding my time, waiting for Ranger's super ESP to kick in so he can make his Bat-move. I'm sure you're thinking I should just make the first move. But … it's complicated. I've had a lot of time to think, and I've come to some interesting conclusions. I'm reasonably sure Ranger wants more than sex from me. Maybe. I mean, how many opportunities has he had? And he does little things that tell me he loves me. Like, he lets me blow up his cars. He throws himself in front of bullets with my name written on them. Then there's that killing people for me thing. Kinda goes beyond saying it with flowers, wouldn't you say? Methinks he loves me. _Loves_ me loves me.

And you know you can love people with condoms. In fact, I think that would make an excellent ad campaign for Trojan. Better write that one down.

He says things like 'I'm an opportunist' and 'you're giving information to the enemy.' So where's Mr. Opportunity? When is he going to utilize all this so-called information and ruin me already? Jeez! Either Ranger isn't as interested in me as he lets on, or he's way more interested in me than he wants to admit and his stupid moral compass is holding him back.

So before I make my move, I think I need to feel things out. Figure him out. Call it a test. Watch this:

"Ranger?" I asked, making my voice all smoky and hot.

"You getting a cold, Babe?"

Uhn! I rolled to one hip in the passenger seat and laid my hand on his thigh. His hard thigh. He didn't move, but his eyes flicked down to my hand for one one-hundredth of a second, which is like the Ranger equivalent of a neck-breaking double take.

I've _so_ got his attention.

Ranger sighed as he continued watching the stupid house. "Are you off sugar again, Steph?"

I leaned over and kissed his neck lightly. He gave a little shudder. Then he leaned across me, opened the glove box, pulled out a Hostess Ho-Ho and dropped it in my lap.

I stared down at the Ho-Ho. It was calling my name, and my fingers wrapped around the package. Not _that_ package. God, I was a 'ho for Ho-Hos.

_No! Concentrate, Steph_! You're on _Operation: Game On With Ranger_ detail. "Ranger, I don't think you understand."

He didn't take his eyes off the house. "They were out of butterscotch krimpets."

"I didn't give up sugar!" Yeesh.

"Do I need to call Joe and have him put more men on the job?"

The subtle knock at my sex life with Morelli might have been funny, if it wasn't true. I haven't had a social orgasm in so long my good parts were in danger of shriveling up and dying. "Joe and I called it quits two months ago."

He went still for a beat. A mean feat given that he'd been dead still to begin with. "You'll work it out, Babe."

I resisted the urge to smack him, but I couldn't stop myself from sending a frustrated glare in his direction. It was never a waste of time to look at Ranger. He was in all black, of course, black cargoes, black t-shirt stretched across his chiseled chest, clinging to each hard-earned muscle. Never had a Ho-Ho dared cross his lips. Transient fats were the enemy.

Blowing out a sigh, I opened and inhaled the Ho-Ho. I wasn't sure but I thought maybe Ranger's lips twitched. Fucker. When I'd shoved in the last bite, I licked my fingers, and then realized he was watching me, eyes black and hot enough to singe my eyebrows.

Hmm. Fascinating. I licked the last of the chocolate from my lips and his eyes tracked the movement. I smiled and leaned in again. "Want a taste?"

He arched a brow. "Babe, you didn't even leave a crumb."

If I didn't want to kiss him so bad, I might have slugged him. But then again, I think he likes that kind of thing. I maneuvered over the console and into his lap to straddle his rock hard thighs. My fingers rested on the best abs on the entire planet, maybe even the universe.

His hands went to my hips. "Steph, you're blocking my view."

"Try this view." Dipping my head, I brushed my lips over his, once, and then again. God, he had a great mouth, and I happened to know he knew exactly what to do with it to drive me out of my living mind--

His fingers dug into my hips. "Playing with fire," he said, his mouth brushing mine with every syllable, melting my bones and nearly my panties while he was at it.

"Do you taste the chocolate, Ranger?"

His tongue slid lightly over my bottom lip. "I taste you."

I squirmed on his lap, on baited breath for him to deepen the kiss, and felt him stir beneath me. Bingo!

But then suddenly I was back in my seat, set there by Batman himself and his arms of steel. "Wha-"

"Joe won't be gone on his undercover gig forever. Until then, there's a case of Ding-dongs in the back."

I grated my teeth. "Joe and I broke up!"

"Heard that before, Babe."

Okay, that was it. I whipped out my phone, punched in Joe's number, and waited, eyes narrowed on Ranger. "I'm going to prove it to you-" But Joe's voice came on, inviting me to leave him a message. "Dammit!" We were broken up and he was still keeping me from getting lucky with Ranger. I folded the phone closed and shoved it into my pocket. "I should have killed him when I had the chance."

"Babe."

…

Okay. That didn't quite work out like I planned. I mean, I proved my point … I think. But now I have to wonder. Did he thwart my feminine machinations because he wasn't that into me anymore or was he taking the moral high road because he was unsure about the status of my break-up with Joe? Why would he be unsure?

I've never lied to him. Hardly ever. And if I did lie, it didn't really count because he always knew when I was lying. So it was like I wasn't lying at all. We were completely symbiotic when it came to communication. Well, except for the whole us not talking about things, my not thinking about things and his stupid double entendres and mysterious ambiguous double-speak. But other than that, we're clearly perfect for each other.

What was it he said? 'You'll work it out,' and 'heard that before.' It sounds to me like Mr. Manoso might have his bat tights in a twist regarding my on-again-off-again merry-go-round with Joe. But it's been two months. Surely that must show him I mean business! All right, I know. Real easy to maintain a break up when your ex is hundreds of miles away. But it is over. I swear.

I needed to let Ranger know that I'm ready for someday. But you can't just come out and say that kind of thing, can you? No. Not with Ranger. I mean, he still thinks we don't have a relationship. Not very aware of his surroundings, is he?

I was interrupted from my mental gymnastics when Ranger opened my car door. Huh. Guess I'm home. Ranger steadied me as I stepped out of the Explorer, then he slammed the door and beeped it locked. Placing his hand on the small of my back, he guided me into the building and towards the stairs. So lost in my own musings, I blindly followed, bypassing the elevator.

He made quick work of my pathetic lock and was doing his sexy swat thing, scanning under dust ruffles and behind shower curtains. I had to wonder if he shouted 'clear' in his head as he mentally ticked off another quadrant. Damn, he was sexy. Did I say that already?

The next thing I knew, Ranger was standing in front of me looking at me like he needed something. I knew the feeling. I needed something too.

"Babe."

"Hmmm?"

"It's hard for me to leave when you're blocking the door. And you're staring at my crotch."

Crap. Stupid eyes.

I dragged my eyes up his abs … his chest … his chest…

"Steph."

"Huh?" I finally made it to his face. Wow. He looked a little ... something. I wouldn't say nervous, because Ranger doesn't do nervous. But it reminded me of something. It reminded me of that span of weeks between The Deal and The Collection of said Deal. He looked a bit like I felt every time he came to my apartment to apply pressure. I'd rate the expression somewhere between insanely curious and extremely wary. I'm not sure exactly when my ultimate goal for the evening switched from trying to prove that he wanted a relationship with me to getting myself some red-hot Cuban' Bat sex … but … what was the point I was making?

Clearing my throat, I said, "Do you need to go or would you like to stay for a glass of wine?"

He shifted a bit. "Steph, what are you doing?"

I looked into his eyes and I saw skepticism there, mixed with a little amusement.

"What do you mean what am I doing? I'm offering you a friendly glass of wine."

He looked over my shoulder at the door like he was contemplating how much easier life would be on the other side. Then he let out a tiny sigh, stepped to the side and gestured for me to precede him to the kitchen.

Crap. No wine glasses. Jelly jars with Curious George can be sexy in a retro kind of way, can't they? So sue me. They're clean.

Ranger accepted his, uh, jar of wine with only the slightest smirk. Then he leaned against the counter across from me and did that little 'wine swirl' thing as he sniffed at the liquid.

"You did see the screw-top lid to the wine, right?" I asked.

His lips twitched and then he took a healthy sip. He said, "Habit."

I tossed back my glass and poured a second and a third in quick succession. He watched me, eyebrows raised. When I went to pour the fourth, he stopped me, recapped the bottle and put it in the fridge.

I don't know how it happened, but when he stood to close the refrigerator door, suddenly I was all in his very fine business, my front pressed up against his back. And if I didn't know better, I'd say he seemed confused. Out of his element.

"Steph."

I wrapped my arms around his waist, sneaked my hand under his shirt and started toying with his happy trail while I placed a small kiss between his shoulder blades. "Mmm?"

"Babe." He cleared his throat and started again. "I need to go."

Huh. Batman was feeling flustered. You'd think he'd be all over me.

"Babe, I _would_ be all over you if I was sure you were done with Joe."

Shit. Must have said that out loud. What was his problem? The man chased after me for years. Now that I'm here for the taking, he seems to be hesitating. So I said what any self-respecting woman would say in this situation. "Ranger. I have needs."

I probably should mention that as I was saying this, I was following him to the front door with a death grip on the back of his painted-on shirt. I'm aware I wasn't acting rationally. That stupid test earlier in the car must have flipped my Hungarian hormonal switch.

"Babe, you need to let go of my shirt."

"In a minute." I reached waaaaay over toward the dining room table and pulled my phone out of my purse. I flipped it open and hit speed dial three, then put it on speaker.

"What!" Joe's annoyed voice bellowed from the phone.

"Hey Joe, sorry to bother you. I just need to confirm that our relationship bit the dust."

Deep sigh from Joe. "At two thirty in the morning?"

"Your point?"

There was a long pause. Then, "Are you about to have sex?"

I didn't say anything. Only Ranger knew the answer to that.

Ranger merely lifted a brow at me.

"Or is this one of those trick questions?" Joe asked.

"Trick questions?" I might have shrieked this. Three glasses of wine had loosened my tongue.

And maybe my morals. "Just answer my question. Are we broken up?"

Joe didn't answer.

"Joe!"

Nothing.

He'd disconnected on me. "Bastard!"

Ranger took the phone from my hand, closed it against his thigh, and tucked it in the front pocket of my jeans, taking his time in doing so, letting the backs of his fingers brush against me.

My parts, the parts that were two months ignored, came to life. I might have moaned.

Ranger did another of those single brow lift things. Without thinking, I lifted a hand and brushed my fingers over his eyebrow. "How do you do that?" I asked. "I want to be able to do that."

My words might have been slightly slurred. I was a cheap date.

He smirked.

"I mean it," I said. "I want to know how you do a lot of stuff."

Like resist me.

My hand had a mind of its own now, stroking down his temple, over his jaw, then sinking into the dark silk of his hair.

"Steph."

"Uh oh," I murmured, shivering at his low, warning tone. "My name. You must mean business." I set my other hand on his chest, feeling the rock solid strength of him, the steady beat of his heart.

As compared to mine, which was looking for a way out of my ribs.

My hand slid over his ridged abs and headed south. "I wish I knew how you kept so controlled, how you hold yourself so emotionless."

He caught my wrist. "You think I'm emotionless?"

Hmm. Suddenly he didn't seem so at all. "I wish I knew how you kept yourself-"

From wanting me as much as I want you.

"Steph. Babe," he said, and tipped my head up to meet his black gaze. "We're not doing this. Not now."

"You mean sex?"

He let out a barely perceived breath. The Ranger equivalent of a huge sigh. "Tell you what. If you can walk a straight line, we'll talk."

I grinned, twirled and started to walk a straight line, and tripped over my own feet, landing on my hands and knees.

"Is that an invitation?" he asked from behind me.

With as much dignity as I could muster, I turned around and sat on my rump, ignoring that I was in somewhat of a submissive position to Ranger. Holy hot flash, the thought of being in a submissive position to Ranger…

I tilted my chin up and said, "It could be."

His eyes took me in for a beat, then flicked around the apartment; the sofa, the dining room table, towards the kitchen, down the hall to my bedroom. Was he trying to choose which surface would best enhance my total ruination or was he remembering all the places we had explored one another's bodies on that night so long ago?

I watched him blink and shake his head minutely. Then he said, "I'll take a rain check."

"You're going to regret this." Lord knows I wanted to cry.

"No doubt," he said genuinely, and pulled a Batman and vanished.

* * *

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thank you so much for the warm welcome, amazing reviews and all the story alerts. We're very honored.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

He hadn't moved but I knew he'd been aware of my sneaking into his bedroom. Mostly because I'm like Lucy from I Love Lucy fame and he's stealthier than 007.

"Ranger?" I whispered, standing by his bed.

"If you're going to come into my bedroom at 0500 hours, take off all your clothes and get into bed," came a thrillingly morning gruff voice. "I'm not in the mood to compromise."

Holy shit. I gulped, then reminded myself that I can be brave. Proving it, I flipped on his bedside light.

Ranger sat up, looking sexier than sin on a stick. His hair, dark and silky straight, fell over his forehead. He had a five o'clock shadow. He looked wide-awake and surprisingly wary. The sheet fell to his waist, revealing his torso, which was etched in hard sinew and made to elevate a woman's heart rate. I was pretty sure he was completely naked. "Um." It was a struggle to remember what I'd wanted. "I came to take you running."

His gaze took itself on a slow tour of my body, cataloging my teeny tiny shorts (commando) and my jog bra. His eyes heated and dilated to solid black, and some of my bravado failed, even as my hormones kicked hard.

"You want to run," he said, his voice laced with amusement.

"Uh huh." I held up a bag. "But I brought donuts in case."

"In case what?"

"Well, you did turn 31 last week. You're getting up there." Oh, God, was I really baiting Batman? "Maybe you don't have the same energy you did when you were thirty."

His gaze had been traveling the length of my nearly bared body and leaving a trail of goose bumps in its midst, but at my latest pronouncement, those hot eyes suddenly locked on mine.

"Getting up there?" he repeated in disbelief.

"Well, maybe 'up' is the wrong word. I know that lots of men your age having a problem with ... You know ... Getting up." Go for it, Steph. Stay on track with the plan. Taking a deep breath for courage, I climbed on his bed, crawled toward him and straddled him. "Oh," I breathed, wriggling on him, eliciting a soft groan from deep in his chest. He wasn't having a problem with 'up' at all...

His hands grasped my hips and he hissed, "Sit still."

And I did. Eventually. The saddle was lumpy and I was having a hard time finding just the right spot.

Huh. His eyes were shut tight and he looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek.

"What's the matter, Batman?" I asked as I took a messy bite out of a Boston crème. Oops. Some dribbled down my chin … and onto his chest. Better clean that up.

Ranger slapped his hands down to his sides and bunched up the sheets in his fists. This is fun. No wonder he loved to torment me. Maybe I'm sexually sick too!

"Mmmmm." I sat back up and smacked my lips. Looking down, I saw that there was some creamy filling on my breast. I made a little surprised 'O' with my mouth and scooped it up … well, I started to scoop it up. But I accidentally brushed my nipple. And that felt nice. So I just kept circling, and circling and-

"Babe."

"Huh?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

I placed my half-eaten Boston crème on his chest and stretched my jog bra out and down, you know, so I could get a better look at it. "I was trying to clean up my little mess. And then I touched my nipple." I made a pout. "No one has touched my nipples for a very long time. Except me."

My saddle twitched.

"You know, you could touch them for me. It's been a reeeaally long time since you touched them. Or sucked on them. I remember the nibbles. Those were nice. But I understand you might be…"

His voice was low and deadly. "Might be what?"

I looked up at him through my lashes. "Intimidated. You know, have performance anxiety." I gave him a little crotch to pelvis rub.

Ranger sucked in a breath through his teeth, tantamount to a full-throated groan from any other man.

"It's okay," I whispered, grinding against him again, already breathless. He was deliciously hard, and damn it'd been a long time since I'd felt him like this.

Too long. I rocked again, and again got that sharp hiss of breath from him, plus his hands rose and gripped my hips hard, which was shockingly arousing.

Huh.

I'd only meant to tease him but my toes were curling, and my nipples were throbbing. I was close to orgasm and the only place he was touching me was where his fingers were digging into my hips. "I've got this," I told him. "You just lie there and look pretty."

I was fairly certain that that would do it but the sound that came from him this time was … a short-breathed laugh?

Okay, that was it. The man needed to be as shaken as I was, dammit. So I rocked back onto his thighs and before he could blink, ripped the covers from him.

And then I was the one moaning.

Ranger slept in the buff. Thank God for small favors, right? Well, actually, thank God for _large _favors, because the favor he'd just granted me – full frontal view of Ranger in all his morning glory, was …

Very large.

"Hmm," I murmured. "I found something better than donuts."

Before I could draw a breath, I was flat on my back, a red-blooded and a fully aroused Cuban Sex God pressing me into the mattress. He slid a hard, powerful thigh between mine and it rubbed against ground zero.

I saw stars.

He rocked once, twice, and I was gasping, on the very edge--

"You're right, we should run," he whispered in my ear, his voice low and rough.

And then he was gone.

I blinked. "Huh? Wha-" I managed to lift my head in time to watch his very fine ass vanish into the bathroom.

Looking down, I realized that when Ranger had, uh, exerted his authority over me, the Boston crème had met its demise. Melted chocolate was smeared across my jog bra and the pastry had been pushed to its limits, the creamy filling squirting across his sheets.

Lucky donut.

Sitting up, I leaned over to grab some tissues off of his nightstand in an attempt to clean up the mess.

I climbed off the bed as I tugged the dirty garment over my head and made my way over to the bathroom, intent on rinsing out my bra before the stain would set.

I tried the knob but the door was locked.

"Ranger."

"Mmmm."

"I need in."

Nothing. Well, nothing for a minute, then I heard him turn on the shower.

I tapped my knuckles on the door and said, "Would you let me in?"

Heavy silence. Not any normal shower sounds, you know, where the body shifts and the water follows suit, changing the way it hits against the tiles. No clunking of shampoo or Bulgari bottles, just the steady fall of water.

"Ranger."

He grunted. But I do have to say; it was a very sexy, very male, _tense_ grunt.

"What are you doing in there?"

Nothing for a moment, then, "I'm busy."

And a little breathless.

"Doing what?"

Nothing. His private shower manners were little better than his phone manners.

I shifted and leaned against the door, closing my eyes, imagining the wicked things he might be doing to himself in the shower.

I cleared my throat and sing-songed, "I could give you a hand."

He groaned then. A minute later, the shower cut off.

The door opened and he strutted by me, only giving a passing glance and a quirked eyebrow at my uncovered breasts. Following him to the closet where he quickly selected some running clothes, my eyes wandered down to take in his glorious but relaxed package.

After stepping into loose basketball shorts and a wife beater, Ranger eyed me as he scraped his damp hair into a leather tie.

"You going to run like that?" he asked.

I looked down at the girls, crossed my arms and met his eyes. "I'm just going to stay in. Did you just … uh, take care of yourself in the shower?"

He gave me a wolf grin. The bastard wasn't the least bit embarrassed.

I stepped over to my small section of his closet and dragged down a Rangeman baby tee, pulling it over my head. In the past, I'd tried not to give much thought to the implications that I actually had possession of a section of his closet. It hurt my head to think on it. On what it said about him. Us. But right now, it did make me think a little. Clearly he didn't invite other women up here. I had clothes in his closet, panties in his drawer, toiletries under his sink…

Focus, Stephanie. "That didn't take long."

He sat on the leather bench in the middle of space, lacing his running shoes. "Stephanie, I've been jerking off since I was thirteen. I have it down to a science."

Good God, the thought of him touching himself, eyes closed, head thrown back nearly had me panting.

Or did he lean forward, head bowed down; one hand braced on the travertine tiles while the other…

I cleared my throat and said, "I've been doing it a while too but there's no way I could-"

"Make yourself come in under two minutes?"

"Uh… yeah."

He pushed himself up from the bench and stood in front of me, pressing me into the doorframe.

Angling his head to nibble at my neck, he whispered, "I could make you come in under a minute—"

"Uhhhhhm…"

"—But I won't."

And with that, he brushed past me and stopped short when he took in the mess all over the sheets. Shaking his head, he picked up the donut and said, "Christ. Ella's going to think she needs a HASMAT suit to clean this up."

"Well it's clearly cream filling and chocolate."

"Clearly," he said, letting me know that it was about as clear as mud.

Swiping the donut from him, I took a bite. Huh. Wasn't quite as fulfilling without the creamy goodness inside. I delicately picked some lint from my teeth and ignored Ranger's incredulous stare.

I swallowed and said, "Maybe she'll just think you're kinky."

He cocked a brow. "If you knew what I was thinking of while I was in the shower-"

"Was it kinky?"

Ranger looked nonplussed. "Some might consider it taboo."

"Would I?"

He closed his eyes a moment, looking for some inner patience, strength, or maybe a reason not to throttle me.

"Stephanie, what has gotten into you?"

"Lately? No one. But you could help me if you'd just-"

"Stephanie."

"What? This doesn't make any sense. I've tried to seduce you twice. Twice! And you've spent the last two years trying everything to get into my pants, Mr. If Your Bed Is Empty Too Long. You're all talk! Watch this!"

I turned around, pulled my Lycra running shorts over my ass and shook my bon-bon. I looked over my shoulder at Ranger and his eyes were glued to my ass but his hands were fisted at his sides. Watching him watching me, I slipped my hand between my legs and moaned as I touched myself.

His nostrils flared and he took a step forward … and pivoted on his heel, stalking from the room as if the hounds of hell were after him.

"Hey!" I half jogged, half stumbled as I tugged my shorts back up.

I found him at the front door, his hand on the knob and his forehead resting against the wood.

None of this was making sense. He wants me. I know he wants me. Now he could have me and…

I reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, thought better of it and pulled it back. I dropped my gaze to the floor and muttered, "It's the aggressive thing isn't it?"

He didn't say anything so I looked up and saw that he'd turned his head to the side, a soft almost-smile threatening his lips.

Voice low, he said, "No, that turns me on."

"Then…?"

He turned around fully and leaned back into the door, his arms crossed over his chest. "It's your motivation that has me stumped."

"Why do I have to have a motivation? Can't a girl just want sex?"

"Steph."

"What?!" Oops. Even to my own ears, I sounded like a shrew.

He pushed off of the door and was standing over me, against me in a few short steps. He hooked a finger around one of my curls and wound it round and round. I wanted to look up at him but I was lost watching the steady thud of his pulse beneath the silky mocha latte skin of his neck.

"Steph," he repeated softly.

"Huh?" I looked up at him just as he was lowering his face towards mine. I felt my eyes drift closed and then his lips skimmed mine once, twice, and then they were gone. He gave one sharp tug on my hair which brought my eyes open.

"You clearly have a goal. Or you think you do."

"I …" Hell, yes I had a goal. A getting naked goal, thank you very much.

But he stepped back again and put his hand on the knob of the door. "Babe, have you thought this through?"

"Thought _what_ through?"

He went still for a beat, let out a barely there breath, then opened the door and stepped into the hall. Before he closed the door completely behind him I heard him say, "Exactly."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was five days before I managed to see him again. He'd been avoiding me like the damn plague.

Who'd have thought 200 pounds of Cuban Sex God could be such a chicken?

Anyway, I had planned my next attack carefully. He was onto me now. And I needed to be onto him! I needed a man-induced orgasm. I needed HIM to give me that orgasm! Especially since just this morning I'd finally worn out my shower massager.

I sat in my ancient Toyota, watching my skip's house. Mooner was a friend, and wasn't particularly dangerous but he could be wily—at least when he wasn't stoned—and gave me the perfect excuse to call for backup. Soon as I saw Mooner cross in front of his window, verifying his presence, I pulled out my cell. My plan was to call Ranger, let him watch me at work, which never failed to turn him on, and then take advantage of him. Normally, I'd be worried about making a fool out of myself instead of making him proud, but this was Mooner. I could handle Mooner.

Probably.

I called Ranger's cell.

"Yo."

"Yo back," I said. "I need backup."

"Babe, it's nearly ten. Mooner's probably higher than a kite. Just wait until he falls asleep and tag him."

Of course he knew where I was. We both knew he had a near obsessive need to make sure I was on his radar at all times. "Yes," I said. "But he's not alone and I …" What? "I have a hinky feeling."

"Babe."

I heard the click, signaling he'd hung up. Damn, he was hot but he knew nothing about phone manners. But I knew Ranger. He'd come. And sure enough, five minutes later, his Porsche pulled up behind me. He slid into the passenger seat of my car, wearing nothing but black, looking good enough to eat as he handed me a fully loaded utility belt.

"Thanks, but I have mine."

He slid me a look.

"Okay, so I don't." We got out together and walked to the front door. I tried to put a little extra swing in my hips as a strapped on the belt.

Ranger looked at me dubiously and said, "You okay?"

I sighed, "Yeah," and rapped on the door.

Mooner appeared in a cloud of smoke. He took one look at me and said "Oh shit" and then turned and ran.

Dammit! Just my luck, I show up when they're at the extremely paranoid stage as opposed to the uber mellow, _I love you man_ stage. I took chase, not seeing Mooner's friend Dougie, who stuck out his foot and tripped me. I went flying, and as I hit the ground, I saw Ranger step past me and grab Mooner by the back of his shirt.

"Dude," Mooner said.

"Get down," Ranger told him quietly, calmly.

Mooner dropped obediently to the ground like a good little submissive lapdog.

Ranger looked at me and jerked his chin at Mooner. "Cuff him."

I did, and pulled Mooner to his feet, the both of us huffing and puffing.

"Good," Ranger said, and uncuffed Mooner. "Let's do that again." He pointed at Mooner. "Sit."

Mooner sat. I waited for Mooner to sit up on his haunches and beg for a Snausage, but he didn't.

Ranger dragged me back outside and shut the door.

Apparently it was training night. I'd planned on it being seduction night, but as always with Ranger nothing went my way.

"Knock," Ranger said.

I knocked. Mooner obediently opened the door. "Dude," he said, keeping a careful eye on Ranger as he held out his hands to be cuffed.

"See?" Ranger said to me. "Easy."

Right. Easy.

Except he made me repeat it three more times, each time encouraging Mooner to be a little more resistant. Once he was satisfied with my progress, he flipped open his phone and ordered one of his minions to pick up Mooner to be delivered to the station.

Then he took me with him to retrieve one of his high bond skips. The poor accused murderer had to replay his capture over and over again, with me drawing my gun on him five times while Ranger offered a critique on my form and style. Unfortunately, someone must have called the police. I had Ranger's skip on the ground, my knee in his back, my gun on him when I heard Joe speak behind me.

"What the hell, Cupcake?"

"I got him Joe!" It had only taken six times, but hey.

Joe was standing beneath the street light, looking tall, dark and dangerously pissed. "You know what? You're both insane. And I didn't see this."

When he was gone, I dragged my captured skip to the waiting black SUV. I handed him over to Tank, Ranger's right hand man. When I turned to Ranger, grinning from ear to ear with pride, he shot me a rare smile, pulled me into him and whispered, "Proud of you."

And then he kissed me.

Oh boy, did he kiss me. It was a kiss that belied the fact that we were in the middle of the street with Tank and the skip watching. The stupid nosey neighbors who called the cops in the first place assuredly had their noses pressed against their windows.

And I didn't care.

In the Princess Bride it was said that since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. I disagree. There were eight.

Of course, I must give due to Princess Buttercup and her Wesley.

But there was the kiss Ranger gave me just before dawn on that night long ago. The last time we'd made love had been so tender, almost poignant. It was if we were both painfully aware that it was our last chance to feel and show the unspoken emotions we both knew were there.

And there was the kiss he was giving me now.

It was as if the whole world had faded away and he was simply lost in me, telling me the only way he could that he was proud of me, cherished me … loved me.

And that fact turned me on even more. I grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and tried to deepen the kiss, to answer in a language we both understood.

But Tank honked the obnoxious horn on the Explorer. Must have been a retrofit. It sounded like a barge coming into dock.

Ranger pulled back from the kiss and rested his forehead against mine. I felt him let out a long sigh as he cleared his head.

He murmured, "We'll finish this later."

And then he walked over to the Explorer, leaving me standing there struck stupid and a little overheated.

I watched him for a moment, watched him tug some papers—the contract for the skip?—out of one of his bazillion cargo pockets and hand them through the window to Tank. Tank looked pointedly at me and started talking to Ranger. I don't know what they were saying, but from Ranger's stance and bearing, I had an inkling that _I _might be the topic at hand.

With nothing left to do, I skirted around the car and climbed behind the wheel to wait. A few minutes later, the Explorer was pulling off into the night and a Cuban Sex God was folding his impressive frame into my passenger seat.

Turning the key in the ignition, I said, "What was that about?"

Ranger buckled his seatbelt and said, "Nothing."

I swiveled in my seat and said, "Oh, it was something. Tank was talking about me. Was it the kiss?"

"Tank's seen me kiss you before."

"When?"

"Babe, he's my partner and sometimes my shadow."

"So … he's seen us in the alley?"

"And the bakery."

"But—"

"Steph, we haven't always been discreet. And Tank would never say a word about it. Not even to me."

I huffed out a breath. "You're the one who always chooses how and when it happens!"

He'd been looking out the windshield while we'd been talking but at my last comment, he turned to me, his eyes dark, hot and just a little bit vulnerable.

"You have all the power," he said quietly.

I laughed and the sound came out a little maniacal, like I was just this side of crazy. What was he talking about? I had almost _no_ control when it came to him, let alone power. The only thing that kept me from chaining myself bodily to Batman and begging to be his own personal indentured love slave was the invisible boundary I'd erected because of Joe. I sometimes think I'd hung onto Joe so long because I was afraid of what would happen if I'd made myself truly available to Ranger.

I think I was more afraid of what _wouldn't_ happen.

Because when it came to Ranger, I had no control. I had no power. Over the last few years, I'd gone out of my way to convince myself I could love Joe wholly. In my head Ranger felt nothing more for me than lust and amusement. And I knew I couldn't put a name on what I felt for Ranger, not the real name anyway. Because if I did put a real name on the feelings I have for Ranger, the feelings I have for Joe would pale in harsh light of comparison. And then I'd have to do something about it.

You can't control feelings like that. You can't control who you fall in love with.

The heart has a mind of its own.

"I've never had a choice in this, Steph. I don't think you did either."

I startled when he spoke and I know my eyes were big as saucers. It was as if he'd heard my every thought. But I knew he hadn't. I'd physically pinched my lips shut with my fingers as soon as he said the thing about me having all the power. I might look like an idiot right now with my eyes bugged out and my lips squished closed but some thoughts are private, dammit!

My lips were getting numb so I put the car into gear and pulled onto the road without further comment.

Ranger ran his fingers through his hair and absently tugged out the tie, then looped it around my emergency brake. Why did that small gesture seem so intimate?

A few more moments of silence ticked by before he said, "Tank wanted to know if he should return the body receipt to Connie for us."

"You mean for _you_."

"No, you get fifty percent. You should actually get more. You did all the work."

I laughed. "I did the work six times! With six different approaches and I got groped twice!"

"Babe, I broke three of his fingers for the groping."

"It was very chivalrous of you. But the money is yours."

"We'll see."

We both fell silent again and before I knew it, we were in front of Mooner's house and parked behind Ranger's Porsche. The lights were on in the house and I could swear I could see a cloud of smoke through his ancient curtains. Guess we were gone a while. "Ranger?"

"Babe."

"Will you follow me home? I have something I want to show you."

"You already showed it all to me this week, Steph."

I remembered pulling down my pants and flashing him my bare ass, and grimaced. "Something new."

He paused. Batman actually paused. Then gave a barely there nod.

Good as his word, he followed me home and walked me up. He took my keys, opened my apartment and did his 007 thing, giving it a quick search before relaxing marginally. I gestured that he should sit on the couch. He remained standing.

"Jeez, Ranger, you've never been afraid of me before."

He cocked his stupid eyebrow at me.

"Fine!" I thrust my prized piece of paper into his hands, my coup-de-grace, my get-out-of-jail card.

He stared into my eyes for a beat, his dark and unreadable. Then he dipped his head and read.

I could have stared at him all night. That black silky hair. The body that called to mine and made it hum even when he wasn't touching me. But I couldn't stand still, not when I knew word for word what he was reading.

So I paced.

"Babe," he said, still reading, catching my wrist, pulling me to his side. "Explain."

"I think it's self-explanatory."

"Humor me."

"It's a note from Morelli," I whispered. This close I could feel the heat of him, the scent of warm Bulgari and Ranger … "It says that I'm free as a bird."

"Actually, it says: To whom it may concern, I, Joseph Anthony Morelli, being of sound mind, despite agreeing to pen this stupid shit, bequeath my rights over this woman, Stephanie Plum, to any man (or woman… that would be so hot!)—" Ranger broke off and sent me a long look.

I shrugged. "It's Joe."

He went back to reading. "—And is willing to live in abject terror for her life at least once a month, any man who is immune to her hot temper and creative yet horrifying hand gestures, any man who can read the convoluted and frightening workings of her Italian/Hungarian brain.

"I recommend you keep these things in mind: 1)She has a very long memory and a keen sense of revenge. 2)Keeping her ON sugar is crucial to the wear and tear of a man's most prized possession. A solitary man _cannot_ fulfill those kinds of needs and survive it."

He stopped reading for a long pause. "I could," he said.

My nipples got hard.

He went back to reading: "3) She does come with a short list of sexual taboos. I'll just let you figure those out the hard way."

Again Ranger paused. His eyes held mine prisoner. "You won't have any taboos with me."

"Um," I said nervously. "Actually, I—"

"Trust me, Steph."

Gulp.

He smiled wickedly and went back to the note. "4) If you can tolerate her grandma, you're a better man than me. 5) If you moved in on me while I was with Steph, remember I have a long memory as well. Poaching rules do not apply."

Some silence from Ranger on this one. "Hmm," he said. "I have a long memory too. And when I'm with a woman, the word poaching doesn't exist." He was looking at me again, no longer playful. "Remember that, Babe."

Double gulp.

The bottom of the note was signed by Joe, and Ranger didn't say anything else.

I squirmed. "Right?" I asked. "So we're good? We can get to the naked portion of the evening now?" I was a little worried about the no sexual taboo thing but we could work around that.

"Babe."

"What _now_?"

He almost smiled, I could tell. "Babe, you're still missing the point."

Ah, hell. The ultimate goal. He wanted to know if I'd really thought this through. I hadn't, not completely. All I knew was that I was tired of self-combusting. One shouldn't have to combust all by themselves.

And I knew that I loved him. Dammit. I couldn't admit that.

Could I?

Ranger moved to the door and I fought the urge to cry. He turned to face me and gave me the crooked finger, the universal 'come here' gesture. When I was toe to toe with him, he cupped my jaw and brushed his lips over mine. "Tomorrow night, eight o'clock."

"We'll get naked then?" I asked hopefully.

"We'll go on a date."

I blinked. Put my fingers in my ears and shook my head. "What did you say?"

He gave me a genuine smile at that, kissed me again, and then was gone.

"I didn't say yes!" I yelled at the door.

But we both knew I'd be ready.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Happy New Year! Hope you enjoy. :)

**Chapter 4**

"I'm cutting you off!"

"Babe?"

I didn't look at him, just stared resolutely out the front windshield at the modest suburban house before us. "You heard me."

"Doesn't cutting a guy off require giving him a steady supply of sex to begin with?"

I turned to him and saw that he was smiling softly, his eyes sparkling with humor. And then I took in the rest of him, the loose black hair spilling over his shoulders, the white button down shirt, open at the neck and rolled up at his forearms showing just enough of that lickable skin. My eyes traveled further down and appreciated the black denim jeans and the loving way they clung to his sculpted thighs and cupped his most generous assets.

When my gaze met his again, he was giving me that damn wolf grin.

"I asked you if we had reservations!" I shrieked.

He nodded and flicked a glance back at the house. "And I said it wasn't necessary, I'm a regular here."

Uhn! "I asked you what kind of food I should expect and you told me ethnic!"

With a steady finger, Ranger attempted to tuck a loose curl back into my oh-so-inappropriately-sexy updo. It was then that I realized that I was dressed and coiffed for taunting Batman across a candlelit table in a cozy yet intimate restaurant. Not passing the salt to his ma and pa.

"I'm not wearing a bra or panties!"

He grinned. "Now that's just mean."

"I'll _tell_ you what's mean. Getting a girl all worked up and not giving her sex. Asking—oh, I'm sorry—**telling** a girl you're going on a date and then bringing her to meet your parents, without warning! That's mean! What the hell were you thinking?"

And I can tell you that _right now_ he wasn't thinking anything. Or I should say, he wasn't thinking anything appropriate, not in his parents' driveway. Every since I mentioned I wasn't wearing a bra or panties under my little black dress, his eyes had been boring holes into the fabric in certain strategic spots. Placing my hand under his chin, I tipped his head up as I said, "Eyes up here."

He took my hand and placed it on his now very enhanced package. I tried to pull away, but Ranger had other ideas. "This is so wrong! What if your folks come out here? I can't meet them with my hand down your pants! Oh God, they just flipped the porch light on!" As quick as I could, I collapsed with my head in Ranger's lap, thinking it would be better if they couldn't see me.

I felt, more than heard Ranger chuckle. "Babe. Is this another one of your invitations?"

Oh, for the love of God. All men are pigs. Even Batman. Slapping his thigh, I sat up and said, "You're cut off from that, too! Ranger, this is not how you're supposed to do things. When you take a girl on a date, you take her on a date. You take her to dinner, then maybe dancing. You do not bring a girl home to meet your parents on the first date!"

Ranger was absently rubbing his thigh where I'd slapped him and looking across the shadowed lawn toward his parents' brick house. "I didn't really think of this as our first date."

"Excuse me?"

"We've gone out to dinner before."

"That was business!"

"And there were times I picked you up and we went skip tracing together."

"That was work! That's not like picking a girl up and taking her hiking or rock climbing!"

He grabbed my hand as it was waving wildly in front of his face, brought it to his mouth and brushed his lips across my knuckles. "They felt like dates to me."

And what the hell do you say to that? Because had it not been for the constant low-level doses of Morelli guilt, I would have said they felt like dates to me, too.

I must have been silent too long because Ranger squeezed my hand and said in a hopeful tone, "I brought you flowers and a box of bullets when I picked you up…"

Dammit. He was the most adorable lethally gorgeous, dangerous man I've ever met. "Ranger?"

"Babe." But he wasn't looking at me, he was looking out the windshield at the house he'd grown up in, and for a moment, the blank face he had down pat was gone.

Instead, I could see something I rarely if ever saw – vulnerability.

I'd been testing him all week, testing and pushing, and it suddenly came to me.

This was my test.

I had been a crappy student but I was going to pass this one with flying colors. Heart inexplicably aching, I whispered his name again, and as he turned to me, I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close and kissed him.

A quick study, he kissed me back, deep and hot, and when I pulled back for air, I was panting. I was also squirming. "Ranger," I gasped as one of his hands slid up my thigh and beneath my short dress to my hip, his other hand gliding up my ribs, his fingers brushing the underside of my breast.

"Babe." His voice was so low as to almost be inaudible. It was sexy as hell. "You're really not wearing panties or a bra," he groaned and dropped his forehead to mine. "You're killing me."

He sounded so tortured, I felt myself smile.

Catching the look on my face, he groaned again and kissed me, and I'd just gotten my hands beneath his shirt and onto all that sleek, smooth, mouth-watering Cuban skin when there was a sharp rap on the window.

I would have swallowed my tongue, but it was in Ranger's mouth. Jerking back, I thunked my head on the window and grimaced as I took in the petite, beautiful Latina woman standing by Ranger's door.

Petite, beautiful, and annoyed.

Ranger turned to the offending window-knocker. "Fuck," he said beneath his breath, and rolled his window down.

"Ricardo Carlos Manoso!"

"Mama. We—"

Mama. Oh, God. Ranger's mother. Ranger's mother had just caught me with my tongue down her son's throat and my hands—well never mind my hands. His hands had been busier!

Ignoring her son, Mrs. Manoso's eyes cut to me. "Hello, Stephanie. It's lovely to finally meet you."

Finally?

Mrs. Manoso turned back to her son, her polite smile warmed slightly, though her words didn't. "Carlos, this is not a drive-through. Get your ass in my house if you want dinner."

With that, she simply turned and walked into the house.

"Oh my God!" I cried. "Your mother just caught us making out like a couple of teenagers!"

Ranger came around and pulled me out of the car, not letting go of my hand. Good call on his part, because I was braced for flight.

"Relax, Babe."

"Relax?" I hissed. "Are you kidding me? Do you know what she saw? You had your hand—" I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned. "And all week I dreamed about your hand being there, too."

He flashed me a quick grin that didn't help with the heart rate. "Just remember our spot. We'll get back to it." And with that distraction—we'll get back to it? I want that in writing!—he smoothly moved me toward the house.

I looked up and caught no less than four faces plastered at the living room window, watching us.

"Dios," Ranger muttered beneath his breath.

"What?"

"Brace yourself."

"For what?"

"You know how crazy your family is?"

"Yes."

"Well, there's all kinds of crazy."

Oh, boy. "Is this like your 'there's all kinds of love thing'?" I muttered. "Because that one really threw me off." For like two years …

"Babe, you're the one who said that." Dammit. I did. Before I could mentally flagellate myself, he nudged me inside, wisely still holding onto me with both hands.

…

I was just sopping up the remaining juices on my plate with warm Cuban bread when I heard Mrs. Manoso ask, "Would you like some more Boliche?" with a smile in her voice.

I looked up to see several faces watching me in amusement. My plate was completely devoid of food. I may have started eating before the last words of Grace had been uttered. What can I say? Have you ever had Boliche? It would put my mother's pot roast to shame. It was meat stuffed with meat and the juices were so deliciously wonderful, I was contemplating dabbing a little behind my ears.

I smiled at Ranger's beautiful mother and said, "Is there dessert?"

"Of course there is, dear. Carlos told me you have a predilection for pineapple upside down cake. I made Mojito cake. It's made with crushed pineapples, cream cheese, angel food cake mix, shredded coconut-"

I may have whimpered.

Ranger's father barked out a deep, rich laugh and said, "This one's a keeper, Carlos. Finally, you bring home a woman with an appetite."

The only thought I had was, _As opposed to the other women he brought home?_

I tried to keep a smile plastered on my face, but even to me it felt weak. The table fell silent save some awkward throat clearing from Ranger's sister, Pilar, and Pilar's husband quietly admonishing their handsome six year-old son to stop pushing green beans up his nose.

Through the dinner, I'd let myself be lulled into his family's barely suppressed excitement. I was under the impression I was a guest of great honor. I'd actually thought this evening was special; that Ranger didn't bring just any woman home. That this meant something.

Ranger grabbed my hand where it was clenched around the napkin in my lap and uttered a reproachful, "Dad."

Ricardo looked flummoxed for a moment until Mrs. Manoso kicked him under the table. He hissed, "Christ woman! What the hell was that for?"

Ranger's mother cast a pointed glance down towards me, then returned a glare at Mr. Manoso that said, _Think really hard, you idiot! Fix this!_

His father looked completely befuddled, his eyes flicking from one family member to another, clearly hoping someone would throw him a bone. Finally his eyes fell on me, and something in my pathetic excuse for a happy face must have told him the answer.

"Oh, Stephanie," he sighed. "You must forgive me. My wife often tells me I don't think before I speak."

Pilar snorted. "No, Daddy, she says you talk out of your ass. She also says Manoso males should just shut up and look pretty. That it was a good thing you were so good looking and helplessly in love with her, because every time you opened your mouth-"

Both Ranger and his father sent Pilar a withering glance, to which she simply smirked and made a great show of rearranging her utensils.

Ricardo cleared his throat, bringing my eyes back to him. "Carlos has not brought a novia home in over a decade."

Oh.

Oh!

Did that mean the last woman he brought home was Rachel? I looked around the table and noticed that one by one, this thought occurred to the rest of his family. A few moments of silence passed, and again, one by one, they all cast surreptitious glances at my midsection. Well, all except Ranger's nephew, who had broken off two fistfuls of bread and shoved them under his shirt to make a pair of uneven bread boobies.

Without thinking, I slapped both hands over my stomach and blurted, "I'm not! I can't be! He won't—I mean—we don't—that is—"

Ranger stood up and pulled out my chair. "Mama, I'm going to give Steph a tour. You'll call us when it's time for dessert?"

He gave me the bum's rush down the hallway, slipping his arms around me when I slowed to try to look at all the pictures hung there. I caught sight of a beautiful mocha-skinned baby wearing only a diaper and a 2000-watt smile I'd recognize anywhere, and dug in my heels to get a better look. "But—"

But nothing. He pushed me into a room and shut the door behind him. Leaning back on the door, he crossed his arms and just looked at me.

_Be the room, Stephanie, be the room._ While I was trying to vanish into the carpet, I looked around. Bright blue walls, the door covered in late 80's radio station stickers, two twin beds, and a stack of boxes against the wall suggesting this room had gone from housing two boys to housing extra crap.

"Are you okay?" Ranger finally asked.

"Why, because your mother caught us necking in your car? Or because your father likes me better than your … _other_ women? Or because your entire family now knows that I can't be pregnant because we aren't having sex?"

A very soft almost smile crossed his face, and he pushed off from the door and came to me. He stroked a finger over my temple, gently tucking an errant curl behind my ear. "They liked you, Babe."

The nerves and anxiety that had been sitting in my gut loosened. "Are you sure?"

He stroked my jaw with his thumb. "They liked you very much. So do I."

"Like?"

His eyes were unusually warm, and filled with a devastating affection. "You know how I feel about you, Steph."

Oh. Oh, that shouldn't melt me, but it did. "Ranger—"

His hands went to my hips and pulled me in as he leaned down and kissed me. It was one of those really great kisses that blew brain circuits and melted panties with equal aplomb.

His shoulders shook as a low laugh escaped him. "Except you're not wearing panties."

Crap. I'd said that out loud. "Which was a mistake!"

"No," he murmured, running his hands down my back and cupping my ass. "I think you should never wear panties again."

After that, I lost track of everything but his tongue in my mouth and his hands roaming my body freely—until I felt the back of the twin mattress hit my knees. God, he was smooth. And good. I knew exactly how good, too, and memories of that long ago night we'd spent made me shiver …

"Cold?"

"N—no."

"Good." His hands slid down my thighs and back up, bringing the hem of my short dress with them.

"Ranger—oh my God— " He had a grip of my ass now, my _bare_ ass, his fingers dipping low enough to have my eyes crossing with lust. "Wait." I struggled out of the sensual spell he'd cast. "_What are you doing_?!"

"If you don't know, then I'm doing it wrong."

"Yes, but—" I broke off as he wrestled me onto the bed and then covered me with two hundred pounds of hot Cuban muscle. "Ranger— Oh, God," I moaned as he slid his hand between my thighs.

"Mmm, Babe, you like me too."

"Ha— " I struggled to think but it was hard. _He_ was hard, grinding an impressive erection into me as his mouth nudged my dress off my shoulders, baring a breast. "Why now? I don't get it—" I stopped to sigh in pleasure when his tongue rasped over my nipple. "—after all those times I tried to get you—" I gasped when he gently bit down on me. "Ranger! Pay attention!"

"I am." Surging up, he kissed me long and wet and deep until I managed to tear my mouth away.

"How can you be turned on with your parents just down the hall?" I demanded, freaked out.

"Babe, hate to break it to you, but you're as turned on as me." He slid a finger into me and I just about rocked right off the bed.

And then another finger …

"Ranger!" I whispered frantically, even as my hips continued to helplessly rock with him. "This is your old bedroom!"

He was nibbling at my breast, _God I'd missed those nibbles_, and his fingers were teasing me into a frenzy. "Uh huh."

"We can't—Get up!" I was frantically shoving at his unbudgeable shoulders when we both her the doorknob turn.

The next thing I knew, Ranger spun us off the mattress and we both landed between the twin beds with a heavy thud, me on top.

"Wha-"

Ranger yanked my skirt down while I hunched over to shove my aching breasts back into the confines of my dress. All the while we could hear his mother fiddling with the lock, mumbling, "…not supposed to be locked… like I don't know what they're doing in there …"

The door swung open and taking Ranger's cue, I started patting the carpet, flipping up dust ruffles, looking for God knows what.

"Hmph!"

I looked up and saw that Mrs. Manoso had her arms crossed and one eyebrow cocked with suspicion. So _that's _where he got that from!

"What on earth are you doing?" she asked.

"Ma, step back! Steph lost a contact."

What the fuck? His performance was so believable; even _I _found myself shuffling back and checking my knees and palms for the errant item.

Mrs. Manoso joined us on the floor and started combing the carpet with delicate fingers. She said, "If we don't find it, you'll get a terrible headache from just wearing one. I'll have to send Carlos out to get a contact case and some solution for you so you can take the other one out."

I raised my eyes to find Ranger smirking at me. Then he waggled his eyebrows. Rat bastard. Was this his way to get us out of Dodge and back home where her could ruin me six ways to Sunday?

As much as I was on board with that program a few seconds ago, Mr. Speedy-alibi-maker-upper needed to be taught a lesson on inappropriate groping in the familial homestead. His off-the-cuff sudden foray into method acting left a lot to be desired. It was impressive, but we needed to rehearse such scenarios in advance. And I needed an oath that such methods would never be used against me.

I grabbed Ranger's hand and flipped it over under the guise of checking his palm for my lost lens. To Mrs. Manoso I said, "It's no big deal, I only wear one." And then I kissed Ranger's palm. Letting my tongue dart out a moment to tease him. He sucked in a sharp breath, yanked his hand back, checked that his mother was still hunting for my contact, and made a minor adjustment in the groin area. Hah!

My words must have sunk in for Mrs. Manoso, because she sat back on her rump and cocked her head to one side. "You only wear one? That's odd."

Ranger mumbled, "Indeed."

I may have elbowed Ranger's solar plexus a little. "It's a reading contact."

I believe Ranger snorted, but I had a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that he'd make such an undignified sound. Ranger stood and put his hand under my elbow to help me up. Then he said, "I don't understand why you thought you'd need your contact tonight, sweetheart. Why would you wear something you _don't_ need, like the," he coughed, "_reading contact_, and skip something you _do_ need, like your retainer and head gear?"

What? I never even wore braces, let alone—

"You don't want your teeth to get all wily and crooked again, do you?" Ranger asked in the most sickeningly sweet, concerned, patronizing tone I've ever heard.

He was SO going down.

With his mother as my witness, I stared up into his laughing face and tried to find the wherewithal to pull out the big guns. This would be the biggest test yet. I knew he was only teasing, being playful. But the set up was too perfect and I really wanted to see how he'd react to the question. I'd once asked a similar question of Joe and had been less than bowled over by his answer.

"Would you still love me with my teeth all wily and crooked?" I was smiling with my mouth and I'd made sure the tone had come out teasing and light. But my eyes remained serious as I watched his face.

And his face, which had been exuberant and laughing just the moment before, softened somehow. His eyes ticked over my features, and not in the usual way. I knew what he saw—the tiny wrinkles in my forehead, a few of which I attributed to trying to figure him out. His gaze traced over the very light smattering of freckles that only came out in the height of summer. His finger came up to softly glide over my mouth, a mouth that I thought was ordinary and unworthy of notice. But he was always fascinated with my lower lip, the crease down the center, especially when my tongue darted out to wet it.

Softly, so softly I wasn't even sure his mother could hear, he said, "I'll always love you. Always have, always will."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard." We turned to find Mrs. Manoso genuflecting.

So I guess his mother _could_ hear him. Fantastic. But I couldn't be bothered by that because I had to agree, that was the most romantic thing I'd ever heard, especially directed at me. I smiled up into Ranger's face, not caring if I was blushing, and stood up on tip-toe to give him a kiss.

Before our lips could meet, Ranger's mother tugged me out of his reach. "No more of that Carlos! You've brought exactly two women home to meet your family. One came into my house already carrying your child. This one will _not_ leave this house in the same condition tonight."

"Christ, Ma-"

Ranger's tiny mother stepped between us, pinched Ranger's earlobe with her thumb and forefinger and pulled his head down—hard. "What have I told you about taking the Lord's name in vain? Hmm?"

Somehow Ranger managed not to appear emasculated by his mother's actions. He actually looked indulgently down at her and his eyes held the faintest traces of amusement. Not that I expect I'd get the same results if I twisted his ear.

"Mama, do we have to do this in front of Stephanie?"

"You either apologize or you chew on a bar of Lever 2000 for five minutes."

Wow. Ranger was lucky. My mom always used liquid soap or tabasco sauce.

Ranger winced, but it was clear he was measuring his options. Was he kidding? But before he could tell her his choice, we heard the echo of the doorbell from down the hall and his mother had other concerns. Bustling from the room, she threw over her shoulder, "The rest of the family is here. Get your asses back out to the dining room. And Carlos, zip up your fly."

* * *

A/N: Only one more chapter to go!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This is the final chapter. Warning for mushy romantic crap conducive to a fluffy HEA. Oh yeah, almost forgot … warning for smut!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

I turned to Ranger as he drove us out of his parents' neighborhood. "Tell me something."

Ranger didn't answer. He wasn't one for wasting words.

"Pilar and I were chatting and she said something about you and a flat iron but when you came back into the room, you cut her off by giving her that super-wedgie. Did you used to straighten your hair with a flat iron? Do you still?"

He didn't do anything so obvious as let out a sigh, but I sensed his mental grimace.

"It's okay, Ranger. I won't judge you. Dickie's nose hair could make a small toupee for Rex if he doesn't keep it under control and Joe has his ass waxed once a month."

His grimace was very real this time and he looked like he might have thrown up in his mouth a little. "Did she happen to mention that _she_ was the one who straightened my hair?" he asked. "Or that I was tied up at the time, courtesy of her and the rest of my sisters so that they could practice hairstyles on me? They also enjoyed doing color analysis. Celia thinks I'm autumn but Pilar insists I'm a winter. Whatever the fuck that means."

I gasped, then clapped a hand over my mouth to hold the laughter in. I might have been only partially successful, because this time he narrowed his eyes almost a whole millimeter.

"Babe."

"I'm sorry, it's just that … well, look at you. It's hard to imagine you small and vulnerable. You're Batman."

He took his eyes off the road for a beat, a small smile on his lips, but his eyes were surprisingly serious. "I'm not a super hero. I'm just a man."

Yes. Yes, he was. "One of the best men I've ever met," I said softly.

He didn't say anything to that. Keeping his eyes on the road, he reached out for my hand, which he squeezed, then brought to settle on his rock hard thigh.

"Even if you did make me meet your parents before I was ready," I added, remembering the look on his mother's face when she'd barged into his childhood bedroom on us, and my own panic at shoving my uncooperative breasts back into my dress. Just the thought of what we'd been doing sent a jolt of lust through me and I crossed my legs and squirmed.

Sliding me a glance, he brought our joined hands to my thigh, holding me still. "Do you need to stop somewhere?"

"Well, I could use a donut."

His mouth curved, and he gave a slight disbelieving shake of his head. "You just had dessert."

"Sometimes a girl needs two." _Or an orgasm once in awhile …_ "Don't you ever just need something sweet? Ever?"

"Now that you mention it, I _am_ craving pie." His voice lowered to a sexy timbre. "You remember how much I like pie."

Oh, boy. I squirmed some more, rubbing my thighs together, thinking maybe it was just as well I wasn't wearing panties. I'd have ruined them. "I remember," I managed.

"We have unfinished business." He said this quietly, letting our fingers slid up my leg, almost to the holy land. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

I sucked in a breath and resisted the urge to spread my legs. "Don't we always?"

When he didn't answer, I admitted the truth. "Although it feels more unfinished than usual."

"How?" he asked, and I knew what he wanted, he wanted to hear what I was thinking.

Which was tricky, as half the time _I_ had no idea what I was thinking. "This time, it feels different." I paused. "Doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"There's no Joe," I whispered.

"Yes."

It was the first time he'd acknowledged that out loud to me. "So … I no longer have that boundary. As for you and your boundaries, well, I have no idea really. I don't know what holds you back."

His dark eyes locked with mine. "Don't you?"

Okay, so I knew. He'd held back because of me. Because of my own inability to take a stand for what I wanted.

Once more he looked at me and said nothing. And then went back to his driving.

I blew out a breath. "Anyone ever tell you that it's damn annoying to have a conversation with someone who doesn't talk?"

He flashed a small smile and pulled over. I realized we were back in the Burg, and in fact were in front of a lovely two-story house with a white picket fence.

And a For Sale sign in the yard.

"I know what has held you back," he said quietly. "What I don't know, Steph, is what you want. Tell me, Babe. Tell me what you want."

I would, except a ball of panic and anxiety had settled in my chest, and I wasn't sure why. All I knew was that this moment had suddenly, inexplicably, become incredibly important. "I don't understand. Why are we here, in front of this house?"

He looked at the For Sale sign, then into my eyes. "Is _this_ what you want, Babe?"

I knew he didn't mean the house, he meant the life that would go with this house. But I didn't want the Burg life, I really didn't.

But the fact that he would give it to me if I said that's what I really wanted, had my heart rolling over and exposing its under belly.

"Babe. We're waiting on you."

I studied his face, looking for any indication of what he was feeling. For the first time this evening, it was carefully blank, but not the cold, shuttered expression he'd perfected so well. It was blank in a way that told me he was going to really listen to me. That whatever I had to say was of the utmost importance, because if it was important to me, it was important to him. Somehow I knew that if I asked him to pull the stars from the sky and stick them in my back pocket, he would. For me.

"No," I whispered. I saw his brows furrow infinitesimally and then his true blank mask slammed down nearly breaking my heart.

"No! I mean…" I squeezed his hand and looked back at the house trying to come up with a way to explain what I wanted. "First of all, much as I'd love to see you shirtless and pushing a lawn mower around this postage stamp yard, I'm afraid the neighbor ladies might trample the begonias in the stampede to tuck dollar bills in your shorts. Wait a minute. Do you even own shorts?"

He gave me a look that told me I was once again both surprising and amusing him. "Of course I own shorts."

"Where do you hide them? Because I've gone through your entire apartment a few times and I've never seen any shorts. Maybe you have them tucked away with your flat iron?"

His mouth kicked up a fraction but he didn't comment so I decided he wanted to get back to the subject at hand. Or at the very least, he wanted me to forget about the flat iron. "There are some things I like about this property, Ranger, but they're not things you'd ever list on a spec sheet."

"Explain."

I lifted his hand to my mouth and, for once, kissed _his_ knuckles. "Just a second," I told him and climbed out of the car, grabbed a flyer, and climbed back in. "Okay, see, mostly this just lists number of bedrooms, bathrooms, a keeping room—what the hell is a keeping room? Is that like a dungeon or— "

"Babe." He was laughing at me, silently, and without moving a single muscle in his face. But I assure you, he was laughing at me.

"Anyway, it doesn't say anything about the way the people inside chose to make a life together, chose not only to share space, but to commit to a future, to commit to each other. Even if one of them has a really boring food pyramid and is obnoxiously pretty and has way better hair than the other, they're committed."

"You can read all that between the lines on the sales brochure."

"Ranger." See, this is why I avoid talking about my feelings. I think I'm worse at it than he is.

I flicked my finger toward the big wheel sitting at the edge of the driveway. "And look, that's a _huge_ commitment."

"Buying a big wheel?"

"Carlos."

"Stephanie."

I heaved a big sigh and looked down at his hand into my lap. I studied the way my hand was dwarfed by his, the contrast of our skin. I smiled softly at the knowledge that despite the violence this hand could wield because of his profession, because of his need to defend and protect, this hand had never shown me anything but pleasure, tenderness and comfort.

This was the hand I wanted to hold for the rest of my life.

My eyes misted over at that thought, and with my chin tucked to my chest I said, "I don't want the Burg. I don't want a house with a picket fence. I'm not sure if I need that piece of paper or a diamond ring, but I'd like them to be options. I'm not sure I want a," I coughed, "_big wheel_. But if I _did_ want a big wheel, I'd want it with you."

He stared at me for a beat, then thrust the Porsche into gear and executed a tight U-turn and took us out of the Burg.

Confusion hit first. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer.

"Ranger? Where are we going?"

More not answering, and frankly, I was getting a little pissed off. "I spill my guts and you say nothing, and now you're just randomly driving—"

"I'm not randomly driving, and you didn't spill your guts. You've never spilled your guts to me."

I stared at his profile, which wasn't giving much away.

It was true. I'd never spilled my guts. Not to anyone. Not even Joe. But the truth is if there was going to be any gut spilling, I wanted it to be to Ranger.

I just …

I was afraid. I was afraid he might laugh, or worse, not react at all. I was afraid I'd spill way more guts than I should and that his guts didn't feel the same. Mentally cringing at the thought of Ranger's guts literally spilling I decided to work harder on coming up with better idioms. Or was it metaphors? Huh. Probably something I shouldn't worry about right now.

I looked out the window, watching the route with interest. We weren't going back to the Rangeman building.

We weren't going back to my apartment.

He took us out of Trenton, and into the hills of Pennsylvania, and up a long winding gravel road. We came to a stop at a stone structure that looked like it housed a mailbox. Ranger placed his palm on the front and just waited.

This was weird. "Uh, are you doing some Jedi trick, you know, trying to deduce how long the mail's been sitting there by how warm the mailbox is?"

Ranger closed his eyes a moment and he gave a small shake of his head. "Babe, you do that to the hood of a car to see if the engine is still hot." I heard a click, like a release, and Ranger pulled the mailbox open. Only this wasn't a mailbox. There was a keypad inside. Ranger pressed his thumb to a small black screen next to the keypad, a little green light lit up and then he keyed in an excruciatingly long code.

I should have been paying more attention to what he was doing, or giving more thought to where exactly we were. But I had more important questions pressing on my mind.

"What if a person really had to pee? I'd have totally disgraced myself in the amount of time it's taken— " I stopped talking as I watched ivy covered iron gates I _hadn't_ noticed slowly swing open to grant us entrance.

It seemed like we drove for another quarter mile within the gates. The gravel road became even more winding and a little too narrow for my liking and then suddenly we came to a stop at the base of a circular driveway, parking before a beautiful house. And beautiful didn't even begin to describe it. It was the kind of house where a butler announced you at the door. After he frisked you, relieved you of your weapons and the secret service cleared you after nineteen hours of questioning using bamboo chutes and water boarding.

I stared at it, butterflies going crazy in my belly. "Where are we?" I whispered, already knowing. I turned to him, eyes wide. "The Batcave?"

He acknowledged this with a barely there nod and came around for me, leading me up the steps to the front door.

"But … you said the Batcave was forever."

Once inside, he quickly opened a door off the far end of the foyer, reached in and I heard the low beeps of him dealing with his alarm system.

"Is that a closet?"

He closed the door and took my hand leading me across the marble floored foyer. "Powder room. Right next to the front door is a little obvious."

Extricating his hand from mine, he nudged me through a spacious living, his fingers pressing the small of my back, and into a kitchen that Ella would drool over. "Oh my God. Do you cook?"

"Babe." He brought me a bottle of water and sat at the island with me, our knees touching.

I looked into his eyes and let out a breath. "I want to spill my guts," I whispered, terrified. "I do. I just …"

"I love you, Steph."

I felt my heart squeeze. But just as the rush of endorphins surged through my veins, making my heart beat double time and an all over tingling flush suffuse my body, I remembered all the qualifiers. Looking down and fiddling with the cap on my water I told him, "Yes, you love me. With a condom, not a ring. As a line item on your entertainment budget. In your own way. Because your life doesn't lend itself to relationships."

"I've said some stupid shit to you, but in all fairness, I meant what I said at the time. In some of the cases, there's a possibility you misunderstood my meaning."

"How exactly was I supposed to interpret _line item on the entertainment budget_?"

"Babe, I was trying to make you laugh. After making that stupid comment about bleeding money…" He let that though trail off with a short shake of his head, as if even now he couldn't believe he'd said such a thing to me.

My heart squeezed. "Well, Conan O'Brien you're not. I have to tell you, if you weren't so hot, Ranger humor would really blow chunks."

"Ranger humor."

"Never mind."

We fell into and awkward silence, me twisting the lid on and off of my water bottle, Ranger utterly still except for his thumb absently rubbing a spot on the side of my knee.

I heard him let out a long breath, then he said, "I know you think I'm a superhero. I'm just a man. I'm human just like you, Steph. Do you know how hard it is to tell someone you love them over and over and never hear it back?"

I could barely breathe. _Spill. Spill your guts._ "I … I have a little problem with sharing my emotions. And I might not have said stupid shit to you, but I _did_ stupid shit." I swallowed hard. "I let you scare me into going back to Morelli when I should have stood my ground with you. I told Mrs. Apusenja that you wanted to rent a room in her place just so you'd exact revenge on me – which you never did. I snooped through your entire apartment for your underwear and then never told you how much it turns me on to know you're commando."

He arched a brow at that one.

"I put you name in a bowl and I peeked because I was afraid I would pick you and now I wonder what would have happened if I'd picked you. Sometimes I wish I'd put two pieces of paper in there with your name on them. I should have…"

Now he was looking at me like he needed to throw a net over me and dose me with lithium. But he's looked at me like that before, so I continued, "I've stolen your shirts and wear them just so I can smell you all night long. After Scrog shot you I realized … I realized how I felt about you, how _much_ I felt for you and I buried my head in the sand rather than face the truth. I played ostrich for a good long time, until I started working at Rangeman to help you figure out who was robbing your accounts. You offered sex and closet space, and I nearly took you up on it."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I wanted more than sex from you. I wanted what I told myself you couldn't give me."

Ranger reached out and took my hand, gently squeezing it in his bigger one.

"I always took the easy route," I said, disgusted with myself. "The comfortable one."

"Joe."

I nodded. "I loved him, Ranger."

He brought our joined hands up to his mouth and brushed his lips over my knuckles. "I know."

"But I wasn't in love with him." I stared at my hand in his, then looked into his eyes, dark and warm and utterly open to me, showing me everything. "I'm in love with you," I whispered.

Something flashed in his eyes, a brilliant heat that warmed me from my toes upward, lingering in certain spots. Not that I got the chance to think about that because in the next beat, he'd taken the water from my hands, set it on the island, and drawn me to my feet. Pulling me tight against him, he kissed me. A really great kiss, a deep, soul-searching, body-tingly, brain-cell destroying kiss.

"Not here," he said when he pulled away, and led me out of the kitchen, through the living room and up a set of stairs.

And then he was nudging me into what I hoped was his bedroom.

"Here?" I whispered hopefully.

"Here," he answered softly. He placed a light kiss on my shoulder, then walked across the room toward the fireplace and flicked a switch. Instantly, a fire was blazing in the hearth.

He made his way back toward me and I said, "That's kind of cheating, don't you think?"

He paused in front of me, looked over his shoulder at the flames dancing in the hearth, then back at me, his brow furrowed. "It's a gas fireplace, Steph."

"It would have been more romantic if I could have watched you build the fire…"

"Are you serious?"

"… with your shirt off."

His face changed from incredulous to devastatingly serious in under a second and I enjoyed the view as he took his time unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease. The practiced ease of my very own personal male stripper.

Stepping forward, I covered his hands with mine and pushed them down, then took up where he left off. The ends of his dark hair tickled over my knuckles as he watched my smaller hands complete their task. And what a worthwhile task it was. With each button I opened, another few inches of mocha latte skin was uncovered and it was all I could do not to drop to my knees and taste and lick, rub my face against every inch of this beautiful man.

I must have gotten a little carried away with my thoughts because the next thing I knew, I'd popped the button on the top of his jeans and now _his_ hands were wrapped around my wrists.

"Babe."

His voice was low and I looked up to find his eyes dilated to jet-black, the hunger in them barely suppressed. Letting go of my wrists, he slipped one arm around my waist, pulling me into him and I almost cried out at the feel of his length pressing into me. His other hand went to my hair and a moment later, my curls fell into a wild tumble around my shoulders. I heard a low sound, between a growl and a purr as he nuzzled his face into my hair, taking in its texture and scent.

And suddenly I felt my dress fall to the floor, leaving me standing in the middle of Ranger's bedroom in nothing but a pair of four-inch FMPs and a full body flush, backlit by firelight.

Ranger stepped back and his eyes raked over me, cataloging every inch, the desire in his face making me ache in the places I wanted him to touch.

He raised his hand and brushed my cheek with his knuckles, then skimmed his fingers down my neck, across my collarbone and down until he was cupping my breast in his palm. Gently ghosting his thumb across the tightened peak, he whispered, "You're so beautiful, Babe."

I wanted to argue that he was the beautiful one but I couldn't find any energy to do anything but bask in his undivided attention and enjoy every single exquisite sensation he offered me.

He lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me with such tenderness it made my heart feel like it would burst from my chest. Fisting my hands into his hair, I kissed him back with reckless abandon, pouring everything I had back into him with every little nip of my teeth and the sensual glide of my tongue.

And then I was beneath him, looking up at him from the center of his bed. He was braced over me, magnificent as a warrior. My eyes flowed over the rich swells of his pectorals, down the rippled definition of his abdomen, settling at the straining evidence of his erection pressed against the opened fly of his jeans. I tried to reach for him, but he stopped me, pressing my hands over my head.

His mouth found one breast and then the other and he spent what seemed like hours kissing, sucking, nibbling, driving me out of my mind. He peppered kisses down my torso, pausing to dip his tongue in to my navel at the very same time his thumb found my core.

My legs fell open and he lowered himself down the bed, splaying me even wider with the breadth of his shoulders. His fingers glided across the slick seam of me, painting over me, parting me, his tongue working delicately over my clit.

I cried out as he entered me with one finger, then two. He patiently took me to the edge repeatedly, but never would let me fall over.

Raking at his shoulders, tugging at his hair, I panted out, "God, Ranger, please!"

And he stopped. I looked down at him, down past my own heaving chest slicked with sweat and took in the beautiful man who had been loving me so well. His hair was mussed, his lips damp from my juices. Leaning up on an elbow, he kissed the inside of my thigh and said, "What do you want, amante?"

Oh Christ. I wanted him to keep speaking Spanish. No! I want him inside of me! Or… maybe he could be inside of me _and_ speaking Spanish. Would that be too much to ask?

While I was having my internal debate, Ranger had come over me once again, naked this time.

I reached down and stroked him. His breath hitched and I nearly came at the sound, but then he rolled away. Before I could whine over the loss, he was back with a condom.

"At least until we figure out the Big Wheel Dilemma," he said, bending to press a kiss over my heart, and then turned his head slightly and kissed my breast, lingering …

God, I loved this man. I whispered it to him, watching as my words filled him with wonder. "Te amo," he whispered back, and buried himself to the hilt in one long, fluid motion.

Flooded with pleasure so intense it arched my back and had me crying out, clutching at him. I was almost unable to believe we were finally here, in this very spot, doing as I'd dreamed about almost every night for two years.

"Fuck, Steph," he murmured, voice strained.

"Yes, please."

With a choked groan, he slid his hands in my hair and held my head so that I couldn't look away as he began to move within me. His eyes were dark and sexy sultry, his mouth looking like something I couldn't get enough of, so I reared up and nipped at his full bottom lip. He took control of the kiss, making me melt into him all the more as he buried himself into me over and over, deeper, harder, faster, the whole time holding my gaze with his, letting me see everything I did for him. It took me right over the edge and into a shattering orgasm. I was still shuddering when he grabbed my hips and thrust one last time, holding himself tight against me as he came with me.

When I could breathe, he came to lie beside me and was holding me close, running a hand over my heated, damp skin, waiting while I caught my breath. His wasn't all that steady either.

"That might have been worth waiting for," I said.

He was quiet a moment. Then he said, "Is this really what you want?"

I didn't even have to think about it. "Do I still have all the power?"

"Always."

I smiled against his chest. "Then ask me again."

"Is this what you want? Steph, am I what you want?"

"Well, what do you think? God, Ranger, I've been working my ass off pushing you, seducing you. And let me just say, you weren't much help. I mean seriously, you tried to ply me with ho-hos. You did yourself in the shower when I was right on the other side of the door."

He just looked at me, but I could tell he was smiling on the inside. "I have to admit it was interesting to see the lengths you'd go to in order to apply pressure. You turned the tables on the master," he said.

"The master," I deadpanned, rolling my eyes.

"You can drop the first part and just call me master if you prefer," he murmured, giving my ass a playful squeeze.

I suffered a small hot flash as I imagined Ranger in nothing but leather pants, cracking the proverbial whip and commanding me to submit to his every desire. And then I check for drool.

"I think that all this time, you were nothing but talk. I think you were afraid of me. A big, bad bounty hunter afraid of a little white Jersey girl."

He said nothing to this but I think I detected a low-level death glare. I was able to deflect it with my post-orgasmic shield of bliss. I'd left my indestructible bracelets and lasso of truth at home. Not that they'd really help in this situation.

"And I have to say, I think I set a new benchmark for applying pressure," I told him. "Offering myself up for total ruination, repeatedly," I ticked off on my fingers, "getting up early to run with you. Totally wasted those Boston crèmes. That was a real sacrifice. And I know how much you like my ass. You don't even _know_ how many times I've caught you staring at my ass. I offered you my ass!"

Ranger looked stunned. And then his face reflected a little disappointment mixed with a glimmer of hope and panic. "Wait a minute. I thought butt stuff was off the table. You should have been more clear- "

I smacked his chest. "Focus! Butt stuff was never on the table! Just wipe that table clean." I shuddered. "Don't even _think_ about sitting at that table, or pulling up a chair…. Probably burning that table might be a good idea."

He snuggled me to his side and gripped my bottom with both hands. "Can we just put the table up in the attic and maybe think about using it later?"

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Please?"

Uhn! Time to change the subject. "And you …" I poked him in the bare chest, which didn't give an inch. "You were a total prude."

His mouth opened and then closed. The equivalent of Ranger shock. "A prude," he repeated in a voice that had most men peeing in their pants. "I've been called a lot of things in my life and a prude has never been one of them. Did you not understand the table conversation we just had? Because by table, I meant-"

"I know what you meant! Stop squeezing my butt! You're making me nervous. And yes. Ranger Manoso is a Prude. Capital P."

He shook his head, allowing a smile to cross those lips that nearly took me to heaven and back. "Only you, Babe. Only you could orchestrate a test this bizarre. You shook your bare ass in my face," he paused and his eyes glazed over a little. "Even now you're daring to call me names and yet you live to tell the tale."

I narrowed my eyes. "So you knew all along that I was _testing_ you?"

He just arched a single brow. Yeah, he'd known. I sighed. Damned Batman. "Well, in theory it was good."

"It was good," he said, his smile going full watts. "Best foreplay I've ever had."

I couldn't take my eyes off the sight of him, sprawled out in bed, naked, gorgeous. Grinning.

Mine.

My heart sighed. "It was good, wasn't it? And it worked! Nagging, bossing, begging, whining … it all worked! Almost none of my plans actually work. Usually my plans blow up in my face, literally." I know I was beaming at him. I could tell because my face hurt.

Ranger chuckled and pulled me over to straddle him. Hands on my hips, he dragged me back and forth over my favorite part of his anatomy. He groaned when I leaned forward and pushed back, flexing my hips, letting his body slip and slide against me.

"You should know this about me, Ranger. I always get my man."

His eyes closed and he hissed out a breath as I broke the contact between us to reach for another condom.

I grasped him with a gentle hand and whispered on a smile, "I've got this. Just lie there and look pretty."

* * *

**The End!**


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